Growing Pangs
by Musical Redhead
Summary: One-Shot to Family Feudalism. Rory and Tristan's daughter picks out a prom dress, Tristan reflects.


**Disclaimer**: I own nothing.

**A/N**: For anyone who doesn't work at a high school or the junior's section of a department store, prom season is upon us. Rory and Tristan's daughter, Emma, is looking for a dress.

**Growing Pangs**

Tristan followed his daughter through a forest of colorful satin and sequins as she made her selections. She had pile of dresses folded over her arm as she browsed through the racks. He leaned his shoulder against a column and sighed.

The brunette glanced over at him at and tilted her head over to a lounge area. "You can go sit and watch TV if you want. I'm almost ready to try these on."

Tristan nodded and headed over to a black couch near the entranceway to the fitting rooms. He had a seat and pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket. He typed out a text and pocketed it again. He crossed his arms and sat back, looking up at the flat screen television mounted to the wall. An infomercial was playing and not needing a new set of knives, he glanced down to a corner table for a remote. However, there wasn't one. There were only a few brochures with the latest fashions staring back at him.

After a few minutes of watching the amazing chopping action of the knife set, Emma approached with her collection of dresses and paused in front of him. "I'm going in." She disappeared into the fitting room, leaving her father to continue waiting.

His phone buzzed and he took it out to view the reply. He wrote another message to his wife and pressed send.

It was a couple of minutes later when Emma came out to model the first dress. It was a red floor length gown. Her brown hair fell over her bare shoulders to meet the sweetheart neckline.

Tristan shook his head up at her. "No."

"Reason?"

"It's too Jessica Rabbit."

"Who's Jessica Rabbit?" she asked. "One of your slutty high school girlfriends?"

"No. Next."

Emma regarded her father grimly and went back to the fitting room. When she came out wearing her next option, he gave her an incredulous look.

"Emma Leigh."

"What?" she said defensively, turning to face him. "This is really cute."

"That is not a prom dress. It barely covers you." He wasn't exaggerating. The mesh skirt of the navy blue A-line dress didn't reach her knees. And her shoulders were exposed again.

"I don't know what the problem is. I wear less at my summer job," she protested.

"And you know how much I hate that uniform."

"What else am I supposed to wear at the pool?" she asked. She put her hands on her hips and turned to glare at him. "You're being unreasonable."

"You aren't wearing that to prom. It's a formal dance at a historical mansion. You need to wear something appropriate. You wouldn't even be able to sit in that."

"I could sit," she argued as she turned to check herself out in the full length mirror again. "I probably shouldn't bend over though."

Tristan pointed a finger toward the fitting rooms without another word.

Emma rolled her eyes dramatically and headed back in. While she was changing, Tristan caught sight of Rory approaching with Charlie following. They weaved their way around a few prom dress clad mannequins and took seats next to Tristan. They each had a plastic bag from the bookstore.

"How's it going?" she asked.

Tristan shook his head. "Not well."

She scanned the racks of colorful dresses. "Surely she can find something she likes."

"She has. _I_ don't like them though."

Rory grinned a little. "Oh."

He pointed to the infomercial playing on the television. "I'm going to order a set of those knives and set them on the kitchen table. Then when that Christian fellow comes to pick her up, make sure he sees them."

"That Christian fellow?" Rory said. "You like him, remember?"

"Not on prom night, I don't. I know where his mother got his name."

"That doesn't mean anything."

"Even the most respectable guy cannot be trusted on prom night," Tristan said. "I know because _we_ went to prom a few years ago, and I can remember my self-control was very similar to that of a seventeen year old boy."

Rory smiled and must have agreed with his point. "I'll be sure to give her a refresher course on The Talk. A pop quiz, at the very least."

"Thank you."

Emma returned then, this time in a light purple strapless dress that was short enough in the front to show off her legs. There were rhinestones along the neckline and the waist. "Good, you're here," she said, seeing her mother. She tossed her head toward Tristan. "Dad won't be happy until I come out in a nun's habit."

Rory gave her husband a sidelong glance, and he returned her look.

"Do they have those here?" he asked.

She turned her attention back to the dress her daughter was wearing. She raised her brows in interest. "Will you be starring in an early nineties music video?"

At that, Tristan said, "This one's definitely out."

"It's a high-low dress," Emma explained. "It's a style."

"It's out of the running."

"Fine, but only because I don't like the color," Emma said, taking leave.

Tristan looked at his wife. "Make her five."

"If I had that kind of power, don't you think I'd have done it about a year ago?" she asked.

"In her defense," he said, "we're kind of responsible for those issues."

"Still, all in all, we've almost survived her high school career."

"Yeah, now she'll be off on her own," he said, more grimly then he'd intended. He couldn't help it. Emma being nearly finished with high school didn't make him feel better. It meant letting go.

Charlie got up and walked around his parents to sit on Tristan's other side. He had a seat and asked, "Can we go yet? I'm hungry."

Tristan faced him. "Emma has to find a dress first. Then we'll go out to eat."

The boy sighed heavily. He picked up one of the brochures and flipped through the glossy pages. Bored, he tossed the booklet back on the table and turned to his father again, poking him at his side.

"What?"

"Can I go to San Diego with you when you go back on Tuesday?"

"No. You have to stay to finish the school year," Tristan answered. "Then you and Mom will move out there."

"And Emma too," Charlie said.

Rory looked away, as though interested in the other dresses on the racks. Tristan was vigilant of fluttering eyelids.

He opened his mouth to argue, but hesitated. Their daughter had always been able to tick off a list of the places they'd lived as it consistently grew longer. Connecticut would be the last on her list, and Rory was losing her travel companion. "She'll come to visit," he said. "But then she's coming back to stay with your Grandma before college."

"Don't they have college in California?"

From Tristan's other side, Rory started rummaging through the new books in her shopping bag. He rested a firm hand on her knee. "There are, but she wants to stay here."

"We've been in Connecticut forever," the boy said, oblivious to his mother's struggle to maintain composure in the middle of the department store. He held up his fingers and started to count. "Almost four years. That's a long time."

"Charles," Tristan said sharply.

The boy's eyes grew wider. "What?"

"Do me a favor. Stop talking."

Rory patted Tristan's arm so he'd release her. She stood up and walked away, wandering through the clothing racks.

An occurrence that happened every few years for almost two decades usually elicited excitement and anticipation from her. Their location changed regularly, with their small family unit being the stable force in their lives. It was the one thing that stayed the same when everything around them changed, and when things were in transition. But Emma had reached her breaking point, and now Rory was close to reaching hers. It was ironic, Tristan mused, that one could bear the moves because of the strength she drew from her family, when one of the family members couldn't bear the moves anymore.

They'd met some slippery patches during their sweet, good natured daughter's adolescence. This move wouldn't be like all the others, and not just because Emma wasn't coming with them. This was the place where they had deep roots, and they had to leave them. They'd gotten comfortable at home—and Connecticut _was_ the place they firmly referred to as home through the years. Even Tristan, who hadn't lived in the same place for over four years since he was 16, had gotten attached.

He had tried to assuage the guilt by reminding himself—and Rory—that all kids grow up and go off to college, no matter where they lived. It was just a part of life. No one lived with their parents forever. This was of course cringe-worthy, seeing how Rory had tried to do just that before taking a leap of faith and moving to Japan.

He sighed heavily. She'd figure things out. She'd assimilate to life with just the boys. They'd all get their rhythm back somehow. And Emma would come to visit wherever they lived, they'd be okay.

Emma returned then, modeling a long blue trumpet silhouetted gown.

Rory walked back over, carrying a dress.

Charlie looked at his sister's reflection and commented, "You look like a blue mermaid."

Rory tilted her head to the side and softly said, "Our little fish."

Tristan thought back to the first time Rory had declared their daughter as amphibious. They were living in States at the time—Virginia. Tristan had walked home at the end of a hot summer's day to find a note on the counter with Rory's handwriting. She and Emma were at the pool. He'd sat the note aside and opened the pantry to find a snack. It wasn't long before his wife walked through the door with their two year old on her hip.

"Hey," Rory had greeted as she joined him in the kitchen, setting her bag on the counter.

Emma, excited to see Tristan, had swung her little leg back and forth and leaned towards him with her arm outstretched.

He couldn't help but smile as he'd lifted her from Rory's side. "You're all wet," he observed as her shorts dampened the shirt his white uniform.

Rory had took a swelled book from her bag and pointed at the little girl. "She waterlogged another one of my books with all her splashing. She kept getting away from me."

Tristan had looked down at Emma. "Are you going to replace this one? I got the last one."

She'd smiled at him and rested her head against his arm. She stuck her thumb in her mouth and her lids drooped.

"Someone's tired." He'd smoothed her soft brown hair with his free hand.

"She should be, the little fish. She needs a bath."

Tristan had grinned at his wife. "I guess it's my turn to do lifeguard duty?" He'd received a nod. "I'm actually available all night, if you need supervision too."

All grown up and standing in front of the mirror, Emma turned around and craned her neck around to view the back of the dress. She faced them with her nose scrunched up. "I don't like this crinkled business," she said, indicating the bodice.

Rory held up a dress she'd found—floor length pink with shimmering silver sequins that tapered down the side. "How about this one?"

"Eh, it's pretty," Emma said. "But it's a little too fairy princess. That's not really the look I'm going for."

"What look are you going for?"

"Grown up and sophisticated."

"Maybe we should go over to the formal wear for that," Tristan suggested.

"I'm not a mother-of-the bride," Emma said dryly.

"Remember, Mom's offer is still good," Rory said. "If you don't find something you like, she'll make you one."

Emma's shoulders dropped. "But then Dad wouldn't get to see me in my prom dress."

Tristan's heart broke just a little. It was her big night at the ball and he wouldn't be around to wait up for her. It didn't end there, either. Like his father-in-law before him, he was going to miss his daughter's high school graduation. There wasn't anything he could do about it, except hope he could make the next one in four years.

"Oh," Rory said, caught by surprise. "Why don't you go try the next one?"

Emma nodded and retreated again. Rory placed the dress on a clothing rack near the fitting room and reclaimed her seat next to Tristan. She sighed and rested the side of her head on his shoulder. He took her hand and held it in his lap. Charlie went back to Rory's other side and picked up the bag he'd carried over. He pulled out one of the books and started reading it.

Tristan quietly said, "I think I officially hate San Diego. I will forever associate it with missing everything important."

"This isn't everything," Rory argued. "And you aren't missing things on purpose. She knows that."

He hoped so. Emma had put on a brave face when he broke the news to her. But she had his eyes, so he knew what disappointment looked like. The worst part was her lack of surprise, like she'd been preparing herself for the possibility all along.

After Rory had been silent a moment, she admitted, "I hate it too." It was barely above a whisper, so Charlie wouldn't hear. At least one person was taking things in stride.

A couple minutes later, Emma spoke before she was in front of them, "Okay, I know this one is too short for prom, but I think it would be really cute for my birthday dinner this summer—in California." She twirled around so they could all view the pink ruffled dress. It was belted at the waist with a silver ribbon. "I think it would look good with a jean jacket to dress it down a little."

At the enthusiasm about visiting California, coupled with her compromise of sleeves, she had Tristan wrapped around her finger—as she always had. "That would be cute," he said.

Emma smiled and looked at her mother.

Rory nodded in agreement, eyes slightly misty. "Yeah, you're right."

Their daughter did quick fist pump in celebration. "I have two more dresses, but I think I know which one I want. I'll be right back."

She didn't lie, reappearing after only a couple minutes in a blue floor length gown. It had a slim silhouette and had lacy capped sleeves which also covered all but a triangle of her back.

"That's _very_ elegant," Rory said in approval.

"And mature," Tristan agreed.

Emma admired herself in the mirror, smiling at the compliments. "I think it's the one." She lifted her brown hair. "I could wear an up-do and borrow one of your necklaces," she said, making eye contact with Rory in the mirror.

Her mother nodded her permission.

Emma smiled bigger and went back to change. She came out for the last time in her jeans and t-shirt. She hung up the rejected dresses on the rack and handed the winners to Tristan. As they all headed for the register, she put on her jacket and said, "Now I just need shoes."

Charlie's shoulders hunched over dramatically. "I thought it was time to eat."

"We're close. Hang in there," Rory said encouragingly.

"Oh, and we should go over to the men's department too."

"You already have a date," Tristan reminded her.

"Ha ha. I want to see if there's a tie that will match my dress."

"I'm paying for _your_ prom attire," her father said. "Christian's parents can handle his accessories."

She turned her attention to her mother. "It's too bad you aren't chaperoning this prom. Then you could see all your students in their fancy clothes."

As sweet as she was, she wasn't above teenage manipulation.

Tristan shook his head. "So you can leave early with your boyfriend while she's stuck baby-sitting your classmates?" he asked knowingly. "Nice try, but she'll be sitting at home putting together a puzzle with Charlie. He gets to stay up late to wait for you."

The boy did a fist pump of his own. "Yes!"

With a smile, Rory added, "We'll be right at the dining table at the front of the house, so we'll be able to see Christian's car drive up."

Emma gave an exaggerated sigh and mockingly complained, "You're ruining my life."

"It was hard for me to accept," Rory admitted, "but that's our job."

_**Fin**_


End file.
